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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22590775">stay for a while</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/businessboyjared/pseuds/businessboyjared'>businessboyjared</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>IT (Movies - Muschietti)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Matchmaker Beverly Marsh, Mutual Pining</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:22:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,787</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22590775</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/businessboyjared/pseuds/businessboyjared</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Richie has a crush on his hot neighbor, Ben. Ben has a crush on his hot neighbor, Richie.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ben Hanscom &amp; Beverly Marsh, Ben Hanscom/Richie Tozier, Beverly Marsh &amp; Richie Tozier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>61</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>stay for a while</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/xinio/gifts">xinio</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>title from "stay for a while" by gibbz. rated M for richie talking about jerking off and ben being sexy in general but honestly i just don't know how to tag this otherwise lol</p><p>i'm honestly embarrassed by how unnecessarily long this is, but ill die before i ever write something that's less than a thousand terrible words! please enjoy</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first time Richie gets a glimpse of his neighbor’s abs, it’s by accident.<br/>
<br/>
It’s 7 am on a Wednesday, and Richie can’t even remember the last time he was up this early. He doesn’t remember why he’s up this early <em>now</em>, can hardly remember his own name at this point, but while he’s waiting for his coffee to brew, he just happens to glance out the window, and thank the gay gods he did. Because his neighbor—Brent? Ben?—emerges from his house carrying two garbage bags and looking like a Greek god. And Richie is wide fucking awake at this point, his eyes popping open against the sleep crusted in the corners of them. Ben, Richie’s pretty sure his name is Ben, drops both bags into his trash can and then starts rolling the can down his driveway to the curb. He’s wearing sweatpants and a crop top—for the love of god, a <em>crop top</em>—and his hair is just a little disheveled up top. Richie can’t stop staring at his arms, how the muscles strain against the inertia of the can rolling slightly downhill. He looks like every male lead in every gay-coded horror movie Richie loved as a kid and it is… <em>definitely</em> doing something for him now. He shifts his legs together as his own pajama pants start to get uncomfortably tight.<br/>
<br/>
Just as Richie takes a sip of his coffee, Ben grabs the hem of his shirt—his crop top, his fucking crop top—and uses it to wipe the sweat from his brow. It’s mid-June, and Richie doesn’t doubt that it’s already hot as fuck outside, but this is just ridiculous. He chokes on his coffee at the sight of a perfectly sculpted set of abs, the way Ben’s bicep rounds out and he gets just a glimpse of dark, wiry underarm hair poking out from beneath the shirt sleeve. Richie’s brain flashes image after image of him burying his face there, suffocating on the smell and taste of him. It makes Richie choke and splutter even more.<br/>
<br/>
He’s still coughing when Ben looks up and across the street, right at Richie’s house. Richie freezes, unsure if Ben can see him through the window. <em>Fuck, can he?</em><br/>
<br/>
For a moment, Ben just squints in his direction, shielding his eyes against the morning sun. Then, somehow, he finds Richie’s face in the window and smiles. He lifts up a hand to wave at him, and Richie wishes he had choked and died on his coffee.<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
After that, Richie is <em>very</em> diligent about remembering garbage day.<br/>
<br/>
He tries, with little success, to not be weird about it. It’s not his fault that Ben seems to operate on the exact same schedule every week, which makes it pretty easy for Richie to just plan his Wednesdays around taking the trash out at the same time Ben does. It’s not weird. It’s neighborly.<br/>
<br/>
And wanting your neighbor to rail you into next week… that’s neighborly too, right?<br/>
<br/>
Ben doesn’t wear his crop top again, but he does come out one morning in shorts so small and tight around his thick thighs that Richie is sure he can see the bottom curve of an ass cheek when he turns around. He’s so ridiculously horny about it he feels like a cartoon character, jaw dropped open all the way to the ground, his tongue rolling out and into the street.<br/>
<br/>
He can only shamefully jerk off about it so many times before he needs someone to commiserate with him.<br/>
<br/>
“Bev, my neighbor is so hot I think I’m going to die.”<br/>
<br/>
They’re at brunch, and Beverly smirks at him through a sip of her third mimosa. Richie orders a fourth for himself, because if he’s gonna finally talk about this with someone, he needs the liquid courage.<br/>
<br/>
“You always say that about boys and they’re almost never as hot as you think they are.” She says, laughing while Richie gives her a combination pout and glare. “You should probably get your eyes checked, actually.”<br/>
<br/>
“Okay, ouch. But I know I’m right this time. About him being hot.” He takes a bite of his waffle and talks through it. “He was wearing a <em>crop top</em> the first time I saw him, Bev. A fucking crop top.”<br/>
<br/>
She raises her eyebrows at that, looking impressed. “That’s actually very sexy of him.”<br/>
<br/>
“I know it is, which is why I’m going to die!” Richie whines and downs half of his mimosa in one gulp. “He has <em>so</em> many abs, Beverly. Like a hundred, at least. And a really cute butt and nice biceps and—”<br/>
<br/>
“Do you know his <em>name</em>? Have you talked to him? Or do you just stare at him from a window and jerk off?” Bev says the last part jokingly, but her eyes go wide at how red Richie’s face gets. “You just jerk off right in front of your window?! <em>Richie!</em>”<br/>
<br/>
“Will you—! Keep your voice down!” Richie flails, trying to shush her. “<em>No</em>, I do not… jerk off in front of my kitchen window! God, Bev.” Beverly looks at him suspiciously, but ultimately takes his word for it. Richie waits until she takes another sip of her mimosa to state matter of factly, “I jerk off in the shower, like a normal adult man.” She splutters and chokes on her drink, and Richie laughs and shields his face while she swats at him.<br/>
<br/>
“You’re a fucking bisexual disaster, is what you are.”<br/>
<br/>
Richie drops his head and sighs dramatically. “I know.”<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
Ben had been stealing glances at his neighbor for weeks now, and he’s not proud of it.<br/>
<br/>
The house across the street had been empty for barely a week before Richie pulled up in a Volvo station wagon that somehow survived the last two decades, with a handful of boxes in the back while a moving van was being unloaded from the driveway. Ben watched as Richie—he only knew his name because his other neighbors were quite nosy, and maybe he also specifically asked for his name, but that doesn’t matter as much—popped open the trunk and began carrying his packed up belongings inside.<br/>
<br/>
The hem of his shirt kept riding up as he bent over to gather the boxes. And though it was only the end of May at the time, it was quite warm out already, and Ben’s eyes were laser-focused on the way Richie’s shirt clung to the damp skin underneath, small lines of sweat forming a T-shape across the wide expanse of his chest and down his belly.<br/>
<br/>
Ben eventually dragged himself away from the window, but no matter what he did that day to try and keep himself occupied, his eyes would find their way across the street. He watched Richie talk with some of the movers, his hands constantly moving and gesticulating. Ben liked how much he still seemed to smile at the people helping him move in, like moving wasn’t the most stressful thing a person could do, and looking more like he was just happy to be there. It was really fucking cute, actually.<br/>
<br/>
Now, it’s at the point where Richie takes his trash out as the same time Ben does. He feels a little bit like it’s on purpose, but suspects that it’s mostly wishful thinking on his part. And he’s definitely too shy to actually cross the street and talk to him. Ben waves at him sometimes, and Richie waves back, even if he looks a little nervous and weirded out by the gesture. Ben can’t blame him for keeping his distance—who gets a crush on a neighbor they’ve never talked to? It’s embarrassing.<br/>
<br/>
It doesn’t really stop Ben from peeking over his shoulder from time to time, watching Richie as they both turn away from the curb at almost exactly the same time, and return back to their houses. Ben watches Richie stretch both arms above his head, his shirt lifting up to reveal the bare skin of his lower back, a little paler than the rest of him and looking deliciously soft. Right as he’s about to look away, Richie turns his head and they lock eyes. He can’t be sure, but he thinks maybe Richie winks at him, and Ben almost walks right into the bumper of his car.<br/>
<br/>
“So, are you seeing anybody?” Beverly asks him at their usual coffee spot later that week.<br/>
<br/>
Ben feels himself blush at the question. Richie is the first person he thinks of, but of course that’s not going anywhere. Then again, Ben hasn’t had anyone to tell of for a <em>long</em> time, and Bev just wants to be titillated. It can’t hurt to bring him up.<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t know, I… I’m not <em>seeing</em> him or anything. I mean, he’s my neighbor, I <em>see</em> him every week—”<br/>
<br/>
“Every week? How long have you been holding out on me! What’s he like?” Bev asks, her eyes lighting up right away. She looks like a kid on Christmas morning, and Ben can’t help but give into it a little bit.<br/>
<br/>
He sighs, and his lips try and fail to tamp down his smile. “He’s so cute…”<br/>
<br/>
Bev practically squeals. “Benny, you are blushing <em>so</em> hard!”<br/>
<br/>
Ben takes a sip of his coffee to compose himself for a second. “He’s like… I don’t know, Bev! Looking at him drives me crazy, he’s got these big shoulders and glasses—”<br/>
<br/>
“Sexy librarian glasses or like, sexy Harry Caray?”<br/>
<br/>
Ben laughs and says, “It’s definitely the latter,” which makes Bev laugh even harder.<br/>
<br/>
“You’re such a minx, hiding this broad shouldered, coke-bottle-glasses-wearing stud from me,” She teases. “Does this sexy mystery man have a name?”<br/>
<br/>
“His name’s Richie,” Ben’s busy pouring more sugar into his coffee, so at first he doesn’t notice the way Bev’s mouth drops open. He stirs idly and continues. “I only found out his name from a different neighbor. Is that weird? That’s probably weird, I should have just introduced myself when he moved in, it’s definitely too late for introductions now—uh, Bev?” He finally looks up at her.<br/>
<br/>
“Richie… is your neighbor? Tall guy, glasses, big shoulders… sloppy bear Richie?”<br/>
<br/>
Ben snorts at that. “That’s kind of rude, I don’t know if he’s <em>sloppy</em>—”<br/>
<br/>
“Give me your phone right now.”<br/>
<br/>
“What? Bev, what’s going on?”<br/>
<br/>
“I’ll give you his number, come on! You guys need to bone down already!”<br/>
<br/>
“What?! No—!” Ben splutters.<br/>
<br/>
“What do you mean, <em>no</em>? Yes!” Bev makes grabby hands for his phone but Ben panics and yanks it away.<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t even know if he like, knows I exist—” Beverly rolls her eyes at this but Ben continues. “And how do <em>you</em> have his number? <em>What </em>is going on!”<br/>
<br/>
She huffs at him impatiently. “I work with Richie! And he <em>definitely</em> knows who you are, trust me.”<br/>
<br/>
Ben’s cheeks warm up at that. “How do you mean?”<br/>
<br/>
“I won’t say too much, but he’s for sure into you. To an insanely horny degree.”<br/>
<br/>
Ben opens his mouth to say something but he just ends up gaping at her like a fish out of water.<br/>
<br/>
“Do you want his number or not? You don’t even have to text him first, I can totally talk Richie into doing that. Dude needs to get laid, anyway.”<br/>
<br/>
“So do I,” Ben mumbles, mostly to himself but he knows Bev hears it. She pats the top of one hand as a distraction while she sneaks his phone out of his other hand. He lets it happen, because she’s right, he doesn’t <em>have</em> to text him. He’ll just have Richie’s number, that’s all.<br/>
<br/>
“I know you do, babe. That’s what I’m here for.” She taps at his phone for a minute then puts it back face down on the table.<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
That night, Ben’s in the middle of cooking dinner for himself when his doorbell rings.<br/>
<br/>
It’s Richie on his doorstep, which is already a surprise, but for some reason he also has a small container of sugar in his hands.<br/>
<br/>
“Hi,” Ben says. He realizes that he’s still in his apron and feels a little bit like a dork. “Richie, right?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah. Ben?” Richie asks, and Ben smiles and nods. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”<br/>
<br/>
“You too,” Ben says, and then they’re just standing there waiting for the other to speak. “Uh... can I help you with something?” He asks politely.<br/>
<br/>
Richie looks a mixture of worried and embarrassed. He furrows his brows and says, “Oh, um... You sent me a message earlier? Said you needed to borrow some sugar?” Richie hands him the tupperware.<br/>
<br/>
Ben’s… confused, but he doesn’t want to be rude, so he takes the jar and rolls with it. “Right! I did… do that. I forgot. Thank you.”<br/>
<br/>
Silence, again.<br/>
<br/>
“Do you—would you like to come in? I was just in the middle of making dinner.” Ben opens the door a little wider, points a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of his kitchen.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, no, that’s cool. I don’t want to impose.” Richie says, pushing his glasses up from where they slid down his nose. “If you’ve got company coming over, or something.” He says that last part quietly, a little too pointed, like he’s searching for the answer to a question he doesn’t feel like he can ask.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m not!” Ben says a little too quickly. “You wouldn’t be. Imposing, I mean.” He smiles at Richie then, in an effort to reassure him. It seems to work, because Richie straightens his shoulders up and grins back at him. Ben realizes faintly that they’re about the same height, and something about that excites him deep down.<br/>
<br/>
He steps aside to let Richie in, and takes a moment to watch him as he looks around curiously. Then he realizes he is not here because of Ben’s own invitation. He tells Richie he’ll be right back, and excuses himself to another room to check his phone.<br/>
<br/>
So, there was in fact a text sent to Richie, from Ben, asking to borrow sugar. But Ben certainly hadn’t sent it.<br/>
<br/>
<em>Beverly. </em>She must have sent it when she put Richie’s number in his phone.<br/>
<br/>
He can’t do anything about it now, obviously. But he quickly sends her a text—nothing except a handful of middle finger emojis. Hardly a moment passes, and she texts him back with a kissy face and multiple eggplant emojis. He wants to laugh, and he knows he probably <em>will</em> end up thanking her for this later, but right now he just feels embarrassed at how easily he fell into her matchmaker clutches. <em>What a sneaky bitch. </em><br/>
<br/>
Ben rejoins Richie in the kitchen, who was in the middle of trying a taste of the pasta sauce Ben had simmering on the stove. He looks like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar, and he looks so fucking cute that Ben kind of wants to unhinge his jaw and yell about it for ages.<br/>
<br/>
“Taste alright?”<br/>
<br/>
Richie drags his finger through the back of the wooden spoon and then licks it clean. He lets his finger fall out of his mouth with a small <em>pop</em> that drives Ben more than a little bit crazy.<br/>
<br/>
“Delicious, actually.” He grins at him.<br/>
<br/>
Ben hip bumps him out of the way to finish cooking the sauce and the pasta. It kind of hits him all of a sudden that Richie is still technically a stranger, and then he feels even more odd at the realization that he feels very comfortable with him in his kitchen. They’ve hardly even talked to each other since he invited him in.<br/>
<br/>
“So, uh. I know you moved in not too long ago—you feel settled in yet?” He asks, glancing over his shoulder at Richie. He’s leaning against the counter, and Ben is so intoxicated by the way Richie just <em>owns</em> the space around him. He looks good here. Ben thinks he could probably look good anywhere.<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah! It’s been a pretty smooth transition, so far. I like the neighborhood,” He drums his hands on his thighs. “Everyone’s been really nice.” Richie says, and the way his voice softens makes Ben turn and smile at him.<br/>
<br/>
“Well, good. I’m glad.” Ben wipes his hands on the end of his apron and kills the heat from the stovetop. “Do you drink, Rich? I think this would go great with a bottle of red wine I’ve been saving.”<br/>
<br/>
Richie bites his lip against a smile. “That sounds great, Ben.”<br/>
<br/>
Ben hangs up his apron and starts to plate up their food after giving Richie directions to where he keeps the wine and his corkscrew. They move around each other so easily in the space of Ben’s kitchen, and if he thinks about it for too long he’s pretty sure the butterflies in his stomach will burst right out of him. His kitchen is fairly large, too, so it’s not like there’s any reason for them to feel crowded, yet somehow Richie still finds a way to brush against his shoulders or hands as they maneuver around each other. Ben’s almost relieved when they finally sit down across from each other at the dinner table. Almost.<br/>
<br/>
Richie lifts his glass of wine to Ben, looking right in his eyes. “To new neighbors.”<br/>
<br/>
“To new neighbors,” Ben repeats. They hold eye contact when their glasses clink, and as Ben takes a sip he sees Richie’s eyes slide down to the movement of his throat. He sets his glass down and has to avert his eyes to his plate.<br/>
<br/>
The dinner he made is delicious, thankfully. Ben’s not a bad cook, but there’s been more than enough mishaps for him to feel hesitant about calling himself a “good” one. Richie, on the other hand, can’t seem to keep his mouth shut about it. He slurps and chews loudly while he talks even louder about his day and what he does for a living, occasionally groans his delight at how good everything tastes, and his company alone is more than enough to make up for his poor table manners. Ben takes another long sip of his wine and reflects on how long it’s been since he’s shared a meal with someone. He does a lot of things alone, and it’s fine. He’s fine with it. But now that Richie’s here, Ben feels like he doesn’t want to spend so much time alone anymore. He’d probably invite Richie over every night, if he let him.<br/>
<br/>
“Earth to Ben?” Richie asks, pulling Ben’s attention back to the present. His cheeks are flushed a little and he’s sure the wine is to blame, and not at all his train of thought.<br/>
<br/>
Ben clears his throat and looks up at Richie, who’s smiling at him. “Yeah. Sorry.”<br/>
<br/>
“No worries, man. Didn’t mean to interrupt your daydreaming.” He’s got the bottle of wine in his hand, tilted towards Ben’s glass. “Can I top you off?”<br/>
<br/>
Ben chuckles at the way he starts pouring before he can even answer, splitting the remnants between their glasses. They scrape their plates clean not long after, but their conversation lasts long past sunset. Richie, much to Ben’s delight, can talk for hours about any topic. Ben’s content to just listen to him, throwing in questions or rebuttals or a side comment that gets Richie laughing, the sound of which causes Ben’s heart to thump a little quicker in his chest.<br/>
<br/>
In between all of their talking, they find (and quickly empty) a second bottle of wine. Their conversation dies down, and they’re both slumped back in their seats, bubbles of laughter coming up every now and then at the joke Richie just told, but mostly nursing their full bellies and perfect buzz. Richie sits up all of a sudden, collects their plates and silverware into one neat pile, and heads for the kitchen sink.<br/>
<br/>
Ben hears the water running and immediately follows him. “What do you think you’re doing?” He accuses.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m doing the dishes because you cooked for me, duh.” Richie replies, not looking up from the soapy water now filling up the sink.<br/>
<br/>
“I have a dishwasher, Richie. Don’t worry about it.”<br/>
<br/>
Ben tries to turn the water off but Richie gently swats his hand away. He reaches for it again, and he gets swatted <em>again</em>. “Let me wash the dishes, Benjamin.”<br/>
<br/>
They look at each other, both clearly struggling to hold in their laughter. Ben sneaks toward the sponge in Richie’s hand and gets a hold of it, but Richie keeps an ironclad grip on it. They start wrestling for it, soapy water running down both of their arms and bubbles flying around their faces. Richie swings his left hand around to tickle Ben’s side, which makes him laugh hard enough to let go. Richie hoots and hollers victoriously, and completely out of breath.<br/>
<br/>
Ben sighs in defeat but grabs a rag. “Can I at least dry and put away?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yes, you may.” Richie somehow manages to sound smug while he’s elbow deep in dirty dishes.<br/>
<br/>
Ben puts on some music, and they work together without talking much. The wine is still making Ben feel a little buzzy. Every time his dry hands brush Richie’s pruned fingertips he feels like… like he wants to put them in his mouth or something. Which is—it’s a lot. It’s a lot for Ben to try and avoid thinking about, because he doesn’t want to make things weird. But sometimes Richie’s hand will linger after handing him a clean plate, and <em>that’s </em>a bit much for Ben to parse out, too. It feels too dangerous to hope that Richie is feeling… whatever it is that Ben’s feeling right now.<br/>
<br/>
It’s probably just the wine.<br/>
<br/>
“I have something funny to tell you,” Richie turns to him and says.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, um…” Richie lets out a sheepish laugh while he dries his hands on a nearby towel. “So you know how we always take our trash out at the same time?” Ben nods. “I did that on purpose—” Richie laughs again but is pointedly avoiding Ben’s eyes. “I did that ‘cuz I think you’re really hot, and I wanted to check you out. And it gave me a better view than from my kitchen window.”<br/>
<br/>
Ben’s heart starts racing, can hardly hear the glug of the sink draining over the sudden rush of blood to his face. “…Oh.”<br/>
<br/>
Richie’s self-conscious smile drops immediately into a worried frown. “I shouldn’t have said that. That’s weird, I’m sorry. I’m a—a fucking creep for that,” His eyes dart up to meet Ben’s and then move quickly back to the floor. “Guess I’ll just have to move again!” He jokes weakly.<br/>
<br/>
Ben’s spurred out of his silence at that. “I don’t want you to move,” He says, almost too quiet for Richie to hear. But he does, because he at least stops looking at the floor when he hears it. Ben thinks about Richie said. How he specifically timed his chores for a chance to see Ben for a minute every week. It <em>is</em> weird, but wasn’t Ben kind of hoping for this the whole time? God, they’re both idiots.<br/>
<br/>
Ben starts laughing, and Richie hesitates for only a moment before joining him. “Richie, you’re so weird!”<br/>
<br/>
Richie’s eyes light up at that and he starts laughing even harder. “I know! I am!”<br/>
<br/>
“I cannot believe you thought I looked hot when I was taking out the garbage. That part isn’t true.”<br/>
<br/>
“It is!” Richie squawks, which makes Ben laugh more. “Dude, you were wearing a crop top the first time I noticed. What was I supposed to do?!”<br/>
<br/>
Ben stops laughing enough to look at Richie, then, and he can tell he’s being truthful. Ben knows exactly what top he’s referring to—always at the bottom of his drawer, suitable only for wearing around the house on laundry day. Richie’s got this dark look in his eyes, like he’s <em>remembering</em> Ben wearing it. It sends a shiver down his spine.<br/>
<br/>
“Okay, well. I think you’re hot, too. Since we’re just throwing things out there now.” Ben folds his arms and tries to look nonchalant, even while he can feel how red his face is.<br/>
<br/>
Richie gapes at him. “Uh… okay. Cool.”<br/>
<br/>
“Cool,” Ben smiles at him, and Richie smiles back, and neither of them know where to go from here. Ben takes his drying rag and puts their clean wine glasses away, wipes the counter down, just to have something to do. He feels Richie’s eyes on him the whole time.<br/>
<br/>
“So, um…” Richie scratches at the back of his neck. “Thanks for dinner. I’ll see you around?”<br/>
<br/>
Ben nods at that. When Richie starts to head for the front door, he hears himself say, “You can stay for a bit, if you want.” His heart’s pounding again. “I would like it, if you stayed.”<br/>
<br/>
Richie grins at him. “Okay.”<br/>
<br/>
“Okay.” Ben smiles back. He grabs one of Richie’s hands and tugs him to the living room, where they both plop down on the couch and immediately move in closer to each other. Richie drapes his arm over the back of the couch, behind Ben’s head, pulling him in closer without even trying.<br/>
<br/>
“Can I kiss you?” Richie asks. It’s almost more of a whisper, really, with how close they are.<br/>
<br/>
In lieu of an answer, Ben moves forward, tilts his head down just enough to get Richie’s bottom lip between his own.  Ben feels Richie's left hand come up to cup his cheek, his fingers stroking through the wisps of a beard and then scratching gently down his chin and along his neck. He hums into the kiss and lets Richie move him where he wants, perfectly content to sit back and be kissed for however long Richie wants him.<br/>
<br/>
Ben rests one hand on Richie's thigh, rubbing slowly higher and higher while they kiss. He pushes his hand under the hem of Richie's shirt, slowly, slow enough to where he could stop him if he wanted. Richie just moans quietly against his lips, and Ben pushes up just an inch further until the warm skin of Richie's belly is under his hand. It's immediately addicting, the way Richie trembles under him just a little bit if Ben brushes against a ticklish spot.<br/>
<br/>
Richie scoots closer, enough so that he's basically in Ben's lap, hovering over him. They kiss right there on the couch for what feels like hours, luxuriating in the velvet softness of lips and hints of tongue, of hands on skin and threaded in each other's hair.<br/>
<br/>
Ben doesn't actually know how long it's been. At some point, Richie leans in to kiss him again and accidentally yawns against his lips. Ben cracks his eyes open to see Richie, looking embarrassed but sexy as hell with his lips slightly swollen from their kissing. Ben can't help but tilt his head back and laugh, and he loves the way Richie's chest rises and falls with his laughter too. He pulls away slightly and Ben misses the warmth of him.<br/>
<br/>
“God, it must really be late.” Richie says, glancing out the window. It's dark out, has been for a while, but eerily so. It seems the whole rest of the neighborhood is asleep. “I hope I haven’t—” He yawns again. “—overstayed my welcome.”<br/>
<br/>
Ben pats Richie's knee. “You could never.”<br/>
<br/>
Richie smiles at him, and Ben's heart aches a little at how adorably sleepy he really looks-- eyes attempting to slide shut against his will, hair a little wild from Ben playing with it. He leans forward to kiss him again.<br/>
<br/>
“You could stay the night, if you want...” Ben mumbles against his cheek. “I make a mean breakfast.” Richie hums out a laugh and then pulls away to look Ben in the eyes, like he's double checking he wants this. Ben looks at him right back, to assure him that yes he does, he wants all of it and then some.<br/>
<br/>
“You make a mean dinner, too.” Richie says. Ben blushes at the compliment and then feels pleasantly disoriented—it feels like years have passed since they ate dinner. The best years of Ben's life... so far, at least.<br/>
<br/>
“So, have my cooking skills convinced you enough to stay?” Ben asks, though he's already standing up and reaching for Richie's hand to pull him to his feet. He leads him down the hall to his bedroom.<br/>
<br/>
“I do love breakfast,” Richie muses. He heaves a fake, put upon sigh. “I suppose I'll stay. If you’re gonna twist my arm.”<br/>
<br/>
Richie winks at him, while Ben rolls his eyes fondly and drags him into bed.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>there is now a <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22620289">part two</a>!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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